


Open Ended Permission

by lastcrazyhorn



Category: Midsomer Murders - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Blow Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mutual Masturbation, Power Imbalance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:49:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29850078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lastcrazyhorn/pseuds/lastcrazyhorn
Summary: Barnaby doesn't have Troy's best interests in mind.
Relationships: Tom Barnaby/Gavin Troy
Comments: 5
Kudos: 6
Collections: Midsomer_Melee





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I swear, I didn't mean to turn this into dub-con. It was an accident. 
> 
> *is bad*

At best, he was tipsy, at worst he was drunk. He rather thought that the truth lay between the two, though.  
  
Troy certainly thought he was drunk, if the way he was manhandling him toward the car was any indication.   
  
Tom loses hold of gravity for a moment, and scrabbles to stay upright, eventually latching onto Troy’s slim figure and hanging on for dear life.  
  
“Sir, if you’ll let me get the door open, I’ll get you home in just a jiff.”  
  
That sounded rather logical, but his inhibitions have been lowered rather significantly by the alcohol, and he wasn’t particularly interested in logic.  
  
His lips find purchase on Troy’s neck, and he wraps his arms around his small waist and pulls him close.  
  
“I want to suck you, Gavin,” Tom says in a low voice, not caring for others to hear.  
  
Troy turns bright red under the street light, but manages to foist off Tom’s wandering hands.  
  
He opens the car door and all but shoves Tom inside.  
  
Once in the seat, Tom grips himself through his trousers and _wants._ It was bad enough to want when he was sober, but the urge to touch was so much worse when he was drunk.  
  
Troy climbs in the driver’s seat seconds later, looking more than a little flustered.  
  
“Sir,” He starts. “With all due respect, you’re drunk and you can’t consent. And you’ll probably regret this come morn.”  
  
Troy drives him home in silence.  
  
Tom reaches a hand out for him after they stop, and brushes two fingers over his cheek.  
  
“You’re a good man, Gavin. I hope I haven’t embarrassed you tonight.”  
  
Then he left Gavin in the car alone and made his way up to the house.

. . .  
  
“Sir,” Troy says the next day while they were driving. “Do you remember what happened the night that we went out and celebrated the Cole case?”  
  
Troy’s voice is hesitant, and for once he is watching the road very carefully.  
  
“Yes, yes I do remember that night, Troy,” Tom answers, knowing what the other man is referring to, but too much of a bastard to come out and say it for him.  
  
“Do you remember,” Troy pauses and drums his hand on the steering wheel. “Do you remember what you said you wanted to do to me?”  
  
Tom folds his hands in his lap and looks across at his sergeant.  
  
“Yes, Troy. I told you that I wanted to _suck_ you.”  
  
Tom has to hand it to the younger man. He manages to keep the car on the road, despite his sudden resemblance to a choking fish.  
  
“Did you mean it?” Troy’s voice is hushed, barely audible.  
  
“Of course I meant it,” Tom responds, not looking up. “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”  
  
“I thought. I mean, I didn’t know.”  
  
“You didn’t know what?” Tom pushes him.  
  
“I thought you were straight. I mean, you and Mrs Barnaby are so very . . .”  
  
He trails off and waves his hand.  
  
“So very straight? Heterosexual?” Tom asks, pushing the point just to see Troy’s reaction.  
  
“Yes, that.”  
  
Troy isn’t looking at him again. His eyes are firmly fixed on the road.  
  
Quietly, Tom wonders if they shouldn’t have awkward conversations every day, just for the sake of his personal safety.  
  
“I admit to having many straight inclinations,” Tom says, breaking the awkward silence that has arisen between them.  
  
“But not all of them,” Troy says. “You have some _not_ straight inclinations as well.”  
  
“It’s not unheard of.”  
  
Troy chews his lip for a moment, and Tom has to fight with himself not to reach out and pull the poor lip away from his teeth.  
  
“And so, you’re telling me that you have inclinations of a _not_ straight design toward me.”  
  
“Well,” Tom leans back and crosses his arms. “I would at least _like_ to. But I fear that I may have made a fool of myself in that regard.”  
  
“Sir?” Troy glances at him, bottom lip still caught in his teeth.  
  
“I fear that those inclinations toward you may be considered unwanted,” Tom says, giving in.  
  
He reaches out and pulls Troy’s lip loose with his thumb.  
  
They nearly go off the road at Tom’s touch, but he can’t find it within himself to regret it.  
  
The younger man’s cheek is warm, and relatively soft next to his fingertips. Troy’s lip still shows evidence of teeth indentations, and Tom wishes he could smooth them away—preferably with his lips, or maybe his tongue.  
  
He keeps that to himself, though.  
  
“But they’re not, sir,” Troy whispers after a period of time.  
  
“They’re not what?”  
  
“They’re not unwelcome,” Troy answers, licking his lips now, making Tom stare at the sight of his tongue.  
  
“Really.”  
  
It’s not a question. He doesn’t let himself hope that much.  
  
“Yes. Yes, sir. I would,” Troy swallows hard and Tom watches without shame as his adam’s apple bobs. “I would let you.”  
  
“Let me do what?” Tom’s gaze is abruptly very sharp.  
  
“Anything you want, sir.”  
  
It’s Tom’s turn to swallow hard.

. . .

It’s nearly a week later that they finally have a chance to see exactly what Troy means by letting Tom do whatever he wants with him.  
  
Troy drives them to his apartment, and Tom follows him up with only a cursory glance around to make sure no one is watching.  
  
Troy closes the door behind him and sits down on the comfortable looking sofa in the middle of the room.  
  
“How, how do you want me, sir?” Troy asks softly.  
  
Tom loosens his tie and walks over to where the younger man is sitting. He can feel his heart jackrabbiting in his chest, and his mouth has gone very dry.  
  
He sits next to the younger man and for a moment, they just sit, pressed up against each other, thigh to thigh.  
  
And then, he reaches out a hand to Troy’s face and runs his fingertips over his cheek.  
  
Troy inhales sharply, but doesn’t stop him.  
  
Tom delights inwardly over their closeness, and rubs a thumb across his jaw.  
  
“You’re trembling,” He remarks aloud.  
  
“I’ve, I’ve never been with a man before, sir,” Troy whispers, hands fisted in his trousers, nearly tight enough to tear the cloth.  
  
Warmth blossoms in Tom’s stomach at his words.  
  
“Will you let me kiss you?” Tom’s voice is unusually gentle, even as he puts a hand at the back of Troy’s head and pulls his mouth in to meet his own.  
  
Troy kisses hesitantly, nearly like a virgin, and Tom feels a new rush of desire for his sergeant.  
  
He bends his head back, deepening the kiss, and feels Troy gasp.  
  
He licks across his lips, and then does it again because it makes the other man shiver.  
  
He puts a thumb at the corner of his mouth and then slides it inside when he receives no resistance. A wet tongue wraps around his thumb, and his cock pulses once in his trousers as he imagines what it would be like there.  
  
He pulls his thumb out and trails it down Troy’s neck, watching a line of goosebumps spring up in the line of saliva.  
  
He leans forward and gently tongues that same line of saliva and feels Troy gasp again. The trembling starts up in his limbs, and Tom smiles into his warm neck at the feel.  
  
“It’s all right, lad, I’ve got you,” Tom soothes, stroking the back of his hand over Troy’s cheek.  
  
He undoes Troy’s necktie, pulling it from his collar with a rough sound.  
  
Strong hands grab ahold of his forearms, as he kisses Troy’s collarbone. He is careful and gentle, despite wanting nothing more than to throw Troy down and take and take and take.  
  
His hands swiftly unbutton and divest Troy of his many layers, and quickly the younger man is down to nothing but his trousers.  
  
Tom, by contrast, is still fully dressed; only his tie has been loosened in the face of his ever increasing need.  
  
Troy’s nipples are pebbling between them, despite the warmth of the air in his apartment, and Tom lets himself mouth each one carefully, just to feel Troy shake under his tongue.  
  
Troy makes a sound in his throat as Tom undoes his belt for him, but he ignores it. The younger man is all trust and anxiety rolled up into big eyes that follow his every move.  
  
Tom leaks into his trousers a bit as he catches Troy chewing at his bottom lip, and he doubles back up to his mouth to pull that lip free—this time with his teeth.  
  
He licks the poor lip several times, sucking it into his mouth until Troy whimpers.  
  
Then he shushes his poor boy and kisses a line down his chest, tweaking each nipple as he heads past them.  
  
He stops at the belt line and orders the boy to lift his hips. Troy—whose mouth is as open and wide as his eyes—complies silently, and soon he is wearing nothing but a thin layer of precome and a look of shock.  
  
“That’s a lovely cock, Gavin,” Tom says, looking eye to eye with his cock.  
  
“Sir,” Troy whispers, hips thrusting as his cocks twitches in obvious need. “Sir.”  
  
Tom kisses the tip, getting another gasp for his efforts. Then he licks the precome wetting the tip and makes a big production of licking his lips.  
  
He puts strong hands on soft thin hips, and remembers fondly of when his own resembled the same. Gavin shivers under his touch, and he smiles.  
  
He touches calloused fingertips to soft balls and rolls them in his hands like Chinese stress balls. They sing in their own way, and he squeezes and pulls them until a begging sound is pulled from Troy’s throat.  
  
Then he wraps his mouth around his cockhead, and sucks the other man deep into his mouth. He gorges himself on the taste of the young man in front of him, slurping and fucking his mouth on every sound, every unspoken beg his hips make, every desperate cut off gasp that makes it past Troy’s bright red lips.  
  
He gags himself on the taste and the desperation that has been building since he stepped foot in here.  
  
“Please, I’m going to, sir? I have to, I’m going to—,” Troy begs, hips snapping forward of their own volition as he begins to come.  
  
His face is one of surprise and shock, and just a hint of shame.  
  
Tom sucks him through all of it, only letting him go when he is whimpering constantly, completely overwrought by the continued presence of Tom’s mouth on his sensitive flesh.  
  
He curls in on himself as soon as he is released, cheeks pinking as he realises how vulnerable and open he appears next to Tom’s near impeccable appearance.  
  
Tom catches him by the back of the head and pulls him forward again, not letting him disappear into the sofa cushions in his naked disarray.  
  
He catches him by the mouth and drinks in his whimpers, strong hands stroking down his soft chest.  
  
“Don’t—,” Troy blushes deep and red. “Don’t you need to come, sir?”  
  
“Another time,” Tom promises him, licking over his pulse point and delighting in its rapid flutter.  
  
Troy is discombobulated in his nakedness, managing to find his shirt, but only to pull it on inside out, while his pants are a lost cause completely.  
  
“I must take my leave of you, sweet Gavin,” Tom says, brushing his hand through Troy’s hair, making them both shiver.  
  
“I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning. Same time, yeah?”  
  
“Yeah,” Troy whispers, trousers _in_ his lap, if not _on_ his lap.  
  
“Lovely,” Tom says, walking to the door. “I’ll show myself out, shall I?”  
  
Troy breathes out a shuddery breath and nods.  
  
Tom leaves and shuts the door behind himself with a mild click.  
  
Troy shudders and wraps his arms around his middle and shakes.  
  
He has a feeling it will be a long night.


	2. Not regret, exactly

Tom drives home with the taste of Troy’s semen on his lips, the sound of his cries on his mind. His own cock is stiff in his trousers, and while there is nothing he would have liked better than to come all over Troy, he knows instinctively that it would have been far too soon to try. 

Joyce is waiting for him at home, though he makes use of her inattention to head upstairs and strip out of his confining articles of clothing. He heads to the bathroom and eyeballs himself in the mirror, briefly not recognizing the desperate visage that gazes wild eyed back at him. 

He strokes himself over the sink, hand squeezing hard enough to hurt, mind centred entirely on the sound of Troy’s cries and involuntary shaking. He _knows_ he is wrong to take pleasure in such things; he _knows_ that he left the young man in a state of uncertain disarray, but his cock rejoices in the memory, and he can’t seem to make himself care. 

He strokes himself hard enough to hurt, pinching the loose skin of his balls the way he wished he could have done to Troy, and his cock gushes a stream of precome in response. 

_It_ doesn’t care that he was unnecessarily cruel to Troy. _It_ doesn’t care that he shouldn’t have taken pleasure in the other man’s uncertainties and discomforts. No, his cock is entirely obsessed with pleasure, and his pleasure is found in the desperate cries of the young man whom he has just left for the evening. 

His hand works himself confidently, even as his heart aches to go back to Troy, to hold him close and promise him everything. 

His cock builds on all of this, but what sends him spilling into the sink is the memory of Troy whimpering, his hands gripping tightly onto Tom’s arms, silently begging him. 

He doesn’t know if Troy had wanted him to keep going or to stop. He should have asked, but he didn’t. He chose instead to take and take and take, and despite the pleasure shooting from his cock, the memory roils his stomach, and makes him tremble through his own bout of uncertainty.


	3. Chapter 3

If it were up to him, their relationship would have ended the night that Tom blew him in his apartment. Well, their _personal_ relationship would have ended, at least. Tom doesn’t want to be completely cut off from him.  
  
However, as much as Tom is willing to deny himself, he isn’t prepared for Troy to start the conversation up again.  
  
“Sir.”  
  
They are driving again. Tom is at the wheel this time; his hands needing something to do to keep from being tempted by Troy’s proximity.  
  
“Hm,” Tom grunts.  
  
His mind is firmly on _other_ venues of thought. He won’t allow himself to consider Troy’s naked form until he is safely at home, preferably in the shower.  
  
“Will you want to . . . again?”  
  
Tom’s mind instantly flits over to the image of Troy’s trembling naked torso, and just as quickly, he slams that memory shut. Surely Troy isn’t talking about that.  
  
It had been a mistake; one that Tom is insistent on not remembering whilst around other people.  
  
“Will I want to _what?_ ”  
  
Troy is turning an interesting shade of puce and he glances at him despite himself.  
  
“What?” Tom enunciates, fingers twitching as he fights to keep from reaching out.  
  
“Will you want to touch me again?” Troy asks, biting his lip without any concern as to how it sets Tom off.  
  
Pleasure flushes warmly through Tom’s lower abdomen, and he stifles the gasp that wants to rip its way from his throat.  
  
“I always want to touch you,” Tom admits in a strained voice.  
  
The smile that Troy’s face melts into is beatific, and makes that warm flush inside of Tom threaten to turn volcanic.  
  
“Good. That’s . . . good,” Troy answers haltingly, eyes down.  
  
His tone is demure, like he isn’t aware of what his hesitance and uncertainty is doing to Tom’s cock.  
  
 _But maybe he doesn't know_ is the disconcerting thought rolling around Tom’s head.  
  
 _God_ , Tom adds to himself silently.  
  
His hands are probably leaving wet marks on the steering wheel, but he’s too much of a coward to look.  
  
He hadn’t realised that he’d be given this further chance, but now that he is, the floodgates of his mind are opening, and he is being inundated with a series of increasingly tawdry images, each more lewd than the last. 

_God._  
  
He shifts in his seat in an attempt to make his erection less _obvious_ and thinks very real thoughts about pulling the car over and seeing just how far Troy is willing to go in public, but he doesn’t let himself do it.  
  
Bad enough he’s considering _more_ of this very poorly thought out relationship; he can’t afford to be caught in _public_ on top of everything else too.  
  
“I . . . I could take care of that if you like, sir.”  
  
Troy’s cheeks are pink.  
  
“Take care of what?”  
  
Tom’s mind is so invested in _not_ thinking about his predicament that he is unable to make the leap of logic required for this conversation.  
  
“I’ve been practicing, sir.”  
  
 _Surely he isn't suggesting . . . ?_ Tom’s mind derails at the idea.  
  
“Mostly on cucumbers, but also on bananas. I’m trying to teach myself not to gag, you see.”  
  
Tom does his best to keep his jaw from dropping, but he can’t get rid of the images that are now skipping happily past his mind’s eye.  
  
Thinking of Troy gagging on a cucumber, drool dripping down his clean shaven chin as his eyes water pathetically causes precome to pulse wetly in his pants.  
  
“Troy,” Tom whispers in a harsh moan.  
  
“That’s how you sounded after I came in your mouth, sir. Your voice was all rough,” Troy interjects, eyes shining far too brightly for his words to be anything but purposeful.  
  
Tom swallows the excess saliva that has appeared in his mouth at Troy’s less than innocent words.  
  
“What do you want, Gavin?” He whispers.  
  
He can give him so much. And he can take as well.  
  
For a moment, he feels as powerful as a god of old, wielding so much power over a single life.  
  
“I want everything, sir. _Anything,_ ” He hastens to add. “Anything you’re willing to give me.”  
  
“Anything?” Tom reconfirms, feeling the slippery edge of fate looming back at him.  
  
He rubs his palms on his trousers to rid them of the wetness that has been gathering there.  
  
“Yes, sir. Anything.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I typed this entire damn thing on my phone.

He follows Troy up the stairs almost exactly a week after the last time.  
  
This time though, he doesn’t bother to check the street. He just follows Troy up, eyes on the muscles playing in his arse, knowing far too much about how the other man looks under his numerous layers.  
  
“How do you want me, sir?” Troy asks when they are inside, his face somewhat sardonic.  
  
Tom steps forward and puts his hand around the back of Troy’s head, pulling him in until their lips meet. He revels in the touch of the other man’s hair, but also in the feel of his easy compliance.  
  
“I want to see you. All of you,” He adds, into Troy’s long neck.  
  
“Do I get to see you as well, sir?” Troy asks, cheeky grin plastered on his face, even as his hands move to unbutton his shirt.  
  
“There isn’t much to see,” Tom says, only with some regret.  
  
His eyes are focused entirely on Troy’s slowly revealing chest, the faint lines which hint at future definition.  
  
Tom runs his brown hands over untouched white flesh, and feels more than a little decadent.  
  
Troy reaches out and grabs his hand, bringing his fingertips to soft lips and kissing them gently.  
  
Tom’s breath catches in his throat, and he pulls the other man tight against him.  
  
“I want to see you too, sir. Please,” He breathes wetly into Tom’s ear, making him shiver.  
  
“Let’s take this to your bed,” Tom suggests. “Provided you have one,” He smiles.  
  
“I have a bed, _sir_ ,” Troy replies, pulling Tom by the hand toward a doorway that he only had glanced at before.  
  
The bed is unmade, though that doesn’t surprise him. He wouldn’t make his own if it weren’t for Joyce.  
  
Troy stops beside the bed and pulls off his shirt and undershirt, leaving them draped over a nearby chair. His hands are more certain in their motions this time, and Tom mentally laments the loss of innocence that his actions have resulted in.  
  
Trousers and pants are pushed down over long legs as he watches, and Troy sits on the edge of the bed to pull off his shoes and socks.  
  
“There’s me done,” Troy says, only the trace of a waver in his voice. “Now I get to see you. You promised,” He adds with the conviction of a little boy.  
  
“I did no such thing,” Tom harrumphs.  
  
But he undoes his tie nonetheless, and unbuttons his shirt, and mentally he blames it on the big eyes staring trustingly back up at him.  
  
“Please, sir?”  
  
He scoffs and pulls his shirt off the rest of the way, dropping it and his tie to the floor without much care. He pulls his undershirt off and enjoys the way Troy’s eyes track over each piece of exposed flesh.  
  
“I’m not particularly easy on the eyes,” He gets out before Troy can embarrass them both.  
  
“Well, I’m not either,” Troy declares, crossing his arms in front of his chest and looking all the more beautiful despite.  
  
Tom leans in and takes Troy’s cheek in his hand and kisses his lips with featherlight pressure.  
  
“You are nothing but,” He breathes, barely audible in Troy’s ear.  
  
Troy’s breath hitches audibly, and his eyes widen impossibly huge.  
  
“Sir,” He croaks. “Don’t make fun that way. Please.”  
  
_I couldn’t bear it,_ is what he doesn’t say, but what Tom hears regardless.  
  
Tom runs the back of his fingers over Troy’s milk white cheek, feeling only the bare edge of stubble and sighs aloud.  
  
“You are gorgeous, Gavin,” He repeats himself, leaning in and pushing until Troy is flat on the bed, splayed before him like a Greek god come down to earth.  
  
He climbs on the bed, still in his trousers, and straddles him. He reaches for his hand and it’s given without preamble, and he pulls it to his groin and pushes it against where his hard cock resides.  
  
“If you weren’t beautiful, then I wouldn’t be so damn hard,” He says in a growl.  
  
Troy touches him almost reverently, stroking through his trousers, wonder on his face as he realizes the truth in Tom’s words.  
  
Tom leans down and lets his lips cover Troy’s, lets himself taste as much as he likes. Troy’s hands wrap around the back of his head as he submits and it’s glorious.  
  
Tom finally breaks the kiss because his back is screaming from the position. He stands up and watches as Troy shimmies further onto the bed, looking a bit like an albino python with his endless legs and pale skin. His cock is the only part that’s in colour, rising up pink and proud between his legs.  
  
Tom licks his lips, toes off his shoes and climbs back on the bed. He runs his hands over that thin chest, smiling at ticklish spots and committing them to memory. He plants himself between Troy’s legs and pushes them up and over his shoulders as he pushes his face closer to Troy’s glistening cock.  
  
He breathes on it, and Troy’s body twitches visibly. He leans down, bypassing his cock now, and finds his balls and rolls them in his hand again. Troy’s breath hitches, but he doesn’t tell him to stop.  
  
_God._  
  
He lets go and climbs back up his body, licking and stroking to his heart’s content. Troy is ticklish at his hips, which doesn’t surprise him, but he’s also ticklish around his nipples, which does.  
  
He latches onto one of his nipples with his mouth, rolling and nipping at it like he wants to eventually with Troy’s balls. The younger man squirms under his mouth, bringing his hands up to maybe push Tom away, but he doesn’t. Long fingers merely plant themselves on his shoulders and squeeze, going from gentle to hard and backing off again.  
  
He lets go of the nipple and is pleased to see it wet and a little red, but there is no real damage, and that’s how he wants it for now. He drags his thumb across it, and Troy shivers, hands sliding down his back, fingers accidentally catching on his ribs and sometimes rolls of his flesh. Tom rolls his clothed hips up against Troy’s naked groin, his trousers doing little to mask his need, his cock pulsating wetly in his pants as he does.  
  
He pulls Troy’s fingers down to his belt, and the other man gets the picture, undoing him with shaking hands. With Troy’s help, he gets his trousers open, and then off. He kicks them free and then watches as the other man’s eyes are drawn to his sodden pants, the wet spot taking up centre stage over the majority of his cock.  
  
Troy bites his lip over the sight, and Tom _carefully_ pulls his pants off over his cock, making certain not to get the elastic caught on any important parts.  
  
He pulls his pants off and brings them up to Troy’s chest, suddenly wanting to rub all of the excess moisture into his skin. It’s a wild urge, and not something he’s likely to give into.  
  
Luckily, Troy takes the decision from him. He sits up and takes Tom’s pants from his hand with his fucking _teeth_ , before laying back and putting a hand under his head, underarm hair shining wetly at him under the light.  
  
He sucks on Tom’s pants like he’s _really_ trying to get the flavour from them, and it’s Tom’s turn to swallow loudly, eyes trained unrelentingly on his mouth.  
  
Tom’s cock jumps between them, releasing another gush of precome that drips down into Troy’s pubic hair.  
  
This time he gives into his earlier urge, and reaches down to Troy’s abdomen, wiping up some of his excess wetness and rubbing it methodically into the space below his bellybutton.  
  
Troy’s adam’s apple bobs, and he spits Tom’s pants out of his mouth.  
  
“Marking me, _Tom?_ ”  
  
_God._  
  
Hearing his sergeant say his name so casually is doing things to him—and to his libido.  
  
He grabs his cock and squeezes, pushing out another dollop of precome out onto his thumb as he does. He brings that thumb up and pushes it in Troy’s mouth, and feels his warm tongue wrap around his finger and _suck_ it clean.  
  
He pulls his thumb loose, and rests it on Troy’s cheek, stroking it wetly over his soft flesh.  
  
“You could use my mouth, if you wanted to,” Troy whispers harshly, eyes fixed on him.  
  
He doesn’t think Troy is quite ready for that, but he keeps it to himself, choosing to trace his fingers over Troy’s lips instead, hand trailing down his neck.  
  
He leans forward and sucks on that maddening adam’s apple, moaning loudly and knowing that Troy is turning pink from the sound. He can feel his chest under his hands heating up in a blush that extends down nearly to his belly, and he smiles at the feel.  
  
He strokes calloused thumbs over Troy’s soft belly, ruffling his fingers through the hair that leads downward from his bellybutton, making Troy’s legs twitch and come up in automatic defense of his groin. Tom soothes him with nonsense words, pushing his legs down with his leg, and then sets his sights on his cock. Petal pink at its palest, and ruddy purple at its darkest, it stands unwaveringly between his legs, glistening with unspoken need.  
  
Tom licks the side of his cock, relishing the feel of silken flesh, and mouths at the base, careful not to get too many hairs in his mouth.  
  
He wonders if he can convince Troy to shave, but he tables that thought for now.  
  
He reaches out and wipes his fingers over Troy’s tip, hearing the guttural “uhh” that comes from his throat at his actions. He wraps his hand around his shaft and pulls on his cock gently, enjoying the slide of hot skin over turgid flesh, and of course, the way that Troy bucks in his grip, desperately seeking more friction.  
  
He pulls gently on the flesh of Troy’s balls, silently toying with the idea of seeing how far he can push the boy, how far he can pull before this act trips the line into pain.  
  
The fuzz covering his balls tickles his palms as he squeezes them gently. A stray unintelligible sound grinds out of Troy’s throat as he continues to lightly manipulate them in his hand. It doesn’t seem to be a pain sound, but when he glances up at Troy’s face, it is to find him staring back at him, lower lip caught in his teeth, eyes staring intently and unblinking.  
  
He releases them and strokes the smooth skin behind and lightly whispers his fingers over the hole between his legs.  
  
Goosebumps flare into being on Troy’s thighs as Tom lightly taps on that tightly closed hole. He rubs it with the tip of his index finger, never quite breaching, but fascinated nonetheless.  
  
The tip of own tongue is caught between his teeth as he concentrates on it, lips pursing when he finally thinks to release his jaw’s hold.  
  
He pulls on Troy’s warm skin with his thumb ever so gently, and wishes he could climb into that hole, but he keeps that to himself, confident enough in his sergeant’s ability to pick up on hints and unspoken wants.  
  
He drags his thumbs down Troy’s sensitive inner thighs, silently pleased as his knees come up automatically to shield himself from Tom’s unrelenting touch. He can see his pulse point fluttering in his neck, and he abandons those delightful thighs to lean forward and mouth over that spot on his neck. The sound he makes with his lips is wet and lewd, and Troy mewls against his temple, hips jerking forward seemingly of their own volition.  
  
Tom feels drunk on the taste of the other man’s skin, and wishes he had enough time to lick every bit of exposed flesh, but that will have to be another day.  
  
He pulls away from Troy’s delectable neck and reattaches his mouth to that still reddened nipple, ignoring the other entirely. Troy puts his head back at the feel of his mouth, letting out another breathy moan as he gently starts to chew on his flesh. Lanky muscles flex underneath his hands, and he smiles at his reaction. He catches the nipple in his front teeth and gently pulls it away from his chest ever so slightly, pulling another unintelligible sound from Troy’s throat in the process.  
  
He lets go and moves his mouth to cover Troy’s thrice bitten lips, reaching between them and stroking gently over his cock at the same time.  
  
The sound blossoming from his throat is this side of a groan, and he reaches out for Tom.  
  
Feeling no less desperate than Troy looks, he takes a moment to readjust his hand so that it covers them both, and strokes their cocks together, the wetness of his precome easing the way significantly.  
  
This time, Tom’s breath catches as Troy’s hand reaches out to pull him in closer. He puts his free hand behind Troy’s head and pulls him into a sitting position with a show of strength that causes the other man to gasp in surprise into his mouth.  
  
He wraps his legs around that smooth arse, and squeezes them together in a long hot slide of his palm over needy flesh. His other hand clenches itself in the hair at the back of Troy’s head, and his lips fight to catch every desperate sound that manages to spill unbidden from his lips.  
  
After this much lead up, the actual act of reaching their orgasms goes very quickly.  
  
Troy’s hips rock against him almost non-stop, the other man clearly desperate now as he ruts against any flesh that Tom sees fit to gives him.  
  
Tom, in turn, uses Troy’s obvious desperation to get himself off. With Troy scrabbling at him, nearly frenetic in his grasp, Tom takes a moment to suck a line of bruises down his pale neck, each red splotchy mark sending him closer and closer to nirvana.  
  
At last, it’s watching the other man clasping at him, begging a litany of garbled “pleases” into his shoulder that sends him over the edge, spilling onto them both.  
  
For whatever reason, the sudden heated wetness spreading between them pushes Troy over the edge as well, his face open and shocked as he does.  
  
Tom’s hand gradually slows over them both as he looks to assess the damage, his grip on the back of Troy’s head lessening to something just under fanatical.  
  
“You-You came on me,” Troy says, mouth wide with shock.  
  
Tom laughs into the crook of his sweaty neck, unable to keep his laughter to himself.  
  
“We came on each _other_ ,” He corrects when he’s gotten a breath.  
  
Then he kisses the other man, making as many dirty sounds as he wants; partially because he can, but mostly because he knows it surprises Troy.  
  
He finally pulls himself away after the cum on their chests starts to dry and become uncomfortable. He moves with a bounce in his step, his actions a stark contrast to the still discombobulated man he’s left behind in the bed.  
  
He comes out of the washroom, stomach and groin clear of messy fluids, a wet washcloth in hand for Troy, to find him still in the exact spot, long fingers prodding slowly at his reddened and somewhat swollen nipple.  
  
“Ah, sorry about that, lad. I’ve always had a weakness for nipples,” Tom says, not sorry in the least.  
  
He sits down and when Troy doesn’t say anything, he reaches out and cleans the other man more or less thoroughly with the washcloth.  
  
Troy lets him, and then lets Tom lay him down and pull the covers over him.  
  
He finds his trousers, and pulls them on sans pants. He doesn’t know where they are, and he’s fairly certain they’re a lost cause anyway.  
  
Troy watches him in silence from the bed, and he smiles at him. _He_ feels pretty damn fantastic, but he has a feeling that the other man is going to need some time to process everything that just happened. Never let it be said that he is a boring lover.  
  
He pulls on his undershirt and then his button up, frowning at the wrinkles, but not truly upset. He can probably avoid Joyce on the way back into the house. It’s not that hard. They’re so used to one another that they often tune the other out, regardless of intent.  
  
He picks up his tie and shoves it in his pocket, then sits on the edge of the bed to pull on his shoes.  
  
He enjoys the feel of his trousers against bare skin, and mentally resolves to try it some other time.  
  
Leaning over Troy gets him a sudden blink and a distant smile, and he puts his hand on his just barely stubbled cheek and leans in for a quick kiss. Troy sighs into the kiss, and then he lets go and stands back up.  
  
“Make sure you drink some water when you get your head back on straight,” Tom says, not unkindly, as he walks out the door.  
  
It’s dark when he leaves the apartment, and he barely glances at the street as he heads down the stairs.  
  
He’s ready to go home and get cleaned up. It’s been a long day, and despite the deep satisfaction bubbling under his skin, he needs a break.


	5. Chapter 5

"Do you want to hurt me, sir?” Troy is keeping his eyes on the road, avoiding looking at him. “You could, if you wanted to. I’d let you.”  
  
Tom can only think of one thing to say in response to that.  
  
“Why?” He manages, his mouth almost too dry to get the word out.  
  
Troy grins, more teeth than lips.  
  
“Because you want to, I can tell,” He glances briefly at Tom. “Because I want to give you everything,” He adds, almost inaudible.  
  
“I don’t want to break you,” Tom answers sincerely.  
  
It’s not the same as saying he disagrees with Troy’s supposition.  
  
The truth of the matter is that Troy’s words hit far too close to home.  
  
“I don’t think you could break me, sir,” Troy says, eyebrows lowered in clear consternation.  
  
Tom doesn’t respond to that, but deliberately turns his head and looks out the window.  
  
Troy reaches out blindly and latches on to his hand and they drive in silence for a while.  
  
“You wouldn’t do it on purpose,” Troy says at last, pulling his hand away finally.  
  
“No. Of course not,” Tom fires back, turning to look at him steadily. “But it would be too easy, I fear, to accidentally go too far.”  
  
The conversation derails until they are driving back to Causton, several hours later. Tom is driving, mildly concerned about the blow Troy took to the head while chasing a suspect. The man in question had pushed a bookcase over as a diversionary tactic, and Troy had taken the brunt of it in an effort to protect him. 

Tom had been livid, but mostly at their suspect for putting Troy in harm's way. When-- _If_ \--they caught up with him, the conversation that was bound to follow would not be pleasant. 

“If I asked you to stop, would you?” Troy says out of nowhere.  
  
“What? Here?”  
  
“No. When . . . ,” Troy swallows loudly in the silence of the car. “When you’re touching me. I’ve never said stop. What if I did? Would you?”  
  
Tom frowns, mind switching—with some difficulty—back to their previous conversation.  
  
“Yes. If you said it, I would stop.”  
  
Troy grins at him, bright and hopeful.  
  
“Well, then you don’t have to worry about breaking me. If you go too far, I’ll tell you.”  
  
Tom frowns briefly before his face goes back to neutral.  
  
“Would you, though? Tell me?”  
  
Troy blinks at him.  
  
“Of course I would.”  
  
Tom isn’t entirely certain he believes him, especially since he hasn’t ever seen any evidence of such a thing on this side of their relationship.

. . . 

A thought strikes him later that night, as he’s making his way back to bed after a needed toilet break.

 _What if Troy’s already broken?_  
  
He lays in bed with that rumbling around in his synapses for more than a few minutes before the next thought comes.  
  
 _What if I've already broken him?_  
  
Followed closely by another thought.

 _Or, if it wasn’t me, then someone before me?_  
  
He thinks back to Troy’s descriptions of school, of his more than vague childhood and frowns.  
  
He doesn’t like the idea of he himself breaking Troy, but he likes even less the thought of someone _else_ doing it.  
  
He has a strange longing to go to Troy, to hide him away from other miscreants that would dare touch what’s his.  
  
He rolls over on his side away from Joyce and scowls fiercely into the dark. None of these things are possible.

He finally gets back to sleep with the thought that he’ll talk to George in the morning (provided no new bodies pop up overnight).

. . . 

“I’m worried that Troy might be broken,” Tom says by way of greeting the next morning.  
  
He’s found George in his office for once, instead of elbow deep in a corpse. It makes for a nice change.  
  
“And hello to you too, Tom. Please come in. Oh me, I’m just fine. Thanks for asking,” George responds with an eye roll.  
  
Tom waves his hand dismissively at him with a scowl.  
  
“ _Why_ do you think he’s broken?” George finally continues, leaning back in his chair and throwing his pen on his desk.  
  
“Because he doesn’t ever tell me ‘no,’” Is Tom’s succinct response.  
  
“Well,” George says, scratching his chin. “You are his boss. I can’t remember you ever outright disagreeing with your DCI.”  
  
“I did when his requests were over the line!”  
  
“I have seen Troy roll his eyes at a few of your orders,” George offers with a shrug.  
  
“But not refuse. Because he’s not done that.”  
  
George leans forward in his chair.  
  
“Do you _think_ you’ve broken him?”  
  
Tom looks away in thought.  
  
“If I did, it wasn’t on purpose.”  
  
“Look, Tom, _I_ don’t think he’s broken. Maybe a little bent,” George says pointedly, “But not broken.”  
  
“ _Bent_ , George?” Tom asks, eyeing George intently.  
  
“Certainly no more than you are, Tom,” George says, huffing a laugh as he does.  
  
Tom splutters, and George asks his next question before he can pull himself back together.  
  
“Tell me, Tom,” George leans in, dropping his voice to barely audible. “How long have you two been fucking?”  
  
Tom turns a deep dark red in response, mouth open but unable to find any words to respond with, his surprise is so great.  
  
“Not long, then, I surmise?”  
  
Tom shakes his head wordlessly.  
  
“Then might I suggest you two looking at getting a safe word established?” George says with one of his eyebrows raised for emphasis.  
  
Tom wipes his face with his handkerchief, his hand visibly shaking.  
  
“I’m glad you didn’t try to lie to me about this, Tom,” George adds, leaning back in his chair at last.  
  
“To you?” Tom scoffs, voice hoarse. “Not a chance." He swallows and then narrows his eyes at George. "You don’t think anyone else knows, do you?” He asks, his face finally returning to its normal shade.  
  
“I think Troy could walk into the building with a limp and a wet spot on the back of his trousers, and no one would even take a second look,” George answers in a smug tone. “So, no.”  
  
He grins at the sight of Tom desperately trying not to react to what he’s said.  
  
“They’re police officers, George. I would hope that they wouldn’t be _that_ oblivious.”  
  
“You’d be surprised,” George says with a twisted little smile.  
  
Tom narrows his eyes at his friend.  
  
“I’m guessing that I don’t want to know what you did.”  
  
“Got it in one,” George responds, still smiling.  
  
Tom snorts at him a bit helplessly, but keeps his mouth shut. Plausible deniability and all that, after all.


End file.
